


Perfidy, Mendacity, Prevarication

by synchronized_strangers



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Conspiracy, Emotional Manipulation, Explanations for Bad Wolf Bay, F/M, Self-Loathing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 11:32:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/584958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/synchronized_strangers/pseuds/synchronized_strangers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three fancy ways to say lying. We're good at those, him and me. Not so good at the truth, so what should I tell you, Rose Tyler, when you ask me why?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfidy, Mendacity, Prevarication

He is a bastard. That's nothing new. Same old, same old, really, but being in collusion with him, well, that's a bit odd. Not totally unfamiliar, mind you, but definitely not standard. It's especially weird to be in collusion with him against you.

You ask a question, a hard question with a simple answer, and he wants to tell you - oh, how those words must burn his tongue. I can feel them, clawing their way up his throat, ready to burst out and snatch you away like some monster (prince?) in a fairy story. It wouldn't be a choice at all. Three words. Three simple words (five, maybe, if he adds your name) and it'll be your hand in his as you run forever, all the rest of your days. He'd find a way to give you forever (probably the wrong way, but he'd find one). I wouldn't stop you, just like he won't take you if you choose to stay. We'd want to, no mistake, but we wouldn't (we're pitiful). Much easier to put it in your hands. That's why you have to choose.

Of course, that's not to say we'll play fair. (Could you tell you were being set up?)

And he looks at me, my other self, and he won't say it, because I will, and that's all he needs to get away. See, no matter how much we may hate each other, we make the perfect team, because he knows me absolutely, and some things about us will never change. We'll always make the coward's choice.

His is to be silent, and mine is to speak.

II

"Why?" You ask me that, later, in the dark. A simple question with an awful answer.

What should I tell you? That it was easier for him to leave than to have you back? I think you know that already. He left you here, after all, and what's impossible anyway? Just means it hasn't been done yet. I would have found a way. Apparently I'd do a lot of things he wouldn't. (Did you do that? Change me into someone else?)

Should I look you in the eye and tell you part of him was relieved when you kissed me? That part of him hated you a little for what he became? Right or wrong, he did blame you.

I could tell you he hates me almost as much as I hate him and this was the only way to get rid of me. I'd be lying, but it would be an answer and the first half would be true. I could tell you he's spent his whole life running from everything that matters, that it hurts just to look at you and feel the guilt of leaving you on this beach in the first place. And believe me, he hates those truths even more than he hates the fact of my existence.

He told you it was to save me. That's true enough. What would I be, Rose Tyler, if you'd left me? Nothing half so good as you. You were brilliant. Alone on a beach in Norway with only your mum and Mickey and what did you do? You saved the world. Every world, even. You built a dimension cannon and hopped universes until you found the right one, all for him. And what did he do? He did the unthinkable. He gave you to me.

Should I tell you he didn't deserve you, that selfish old man in his box? We just wouldn't die. Universe would be better off without us. Human race might have died out, sure, but what's one more civilization on our conscience, eh? Any mark like that is unforgivable, and we've got a few. We can be pretty horrible when we put our heads to it.

Who am I telling? You know better than anyone.

Should I say it's because I love you and he knows it and he couldn't do that to me? (Never mind that I did it to him.) I think you'd like to hear that, but you know that's a lie.

I say, "I'm sorry," and, "I love you," and you hit me a few times while you cry. It's okay, I don't mind. You should hit me. Should do a lot worse than hit me, really. You should forget you ever met me. Go off and find some one just as good as you are but you won't. I know you won't because you love him. You loved me once, too. I don't deserve you anymore than he does, but I'm selfish. And this chest that's only ever had one heart feels empty without your head on it. It's only when I think of a life together that it seems an adventure. The one adventure I could never have (the one I've never really wanted) except with you.

I press my face into your hair and plant a kiss on the whorl. I breathe in your scent and run my fingers over your skin. I feel the thudding of your heart against my ribs and listen to the sound they make together.

They almost drown out the panic I feel when I think of a life alone.

II

He did tell one truth on the beach that day.

I do need you, Rose Tyler. I need you so much. And if you were gone... Even I can't find words for that.


End file.
